The descent from the mountain took no more than a couple of minutes; the amazing sense of freedom and lightness was simply incredibly pleasant!
Having inhabited the body of a martial arts master, I can no longer imagine how one could live in the body of an ordinary human.
I am forty years old, yet I am doing things that far from every twenty-year-old could handle—the Furious Five, it would seem, should be stronger, faster, and more flexible, as they are incredibly talented young masters, but fat chance of that!
Even though I was stuck in a dungeon for twenty years because of that damn turtle, slowly degrading and gradually losing my strength, thanks to Chi—control over which, conversely, only grew—I can repeat what I did in my youth through sheer physical power. And if... When I recover, I will become even stronger!
It is incredibly annoying that I couldn't train for these twenty years, but no matter, I'll catch up. Masters who have unlocked Chi live much longer, so I'll show them yet...
The path to the village lay through the forest, which is logical—what idiot would lead a caravan through the mountains? There is no road there, and none is foreseen—it's economically unfeasible.
Nature in this world is amazing. While in the mountains, I wasn't surprised by the snow underfoot and the constant snowstorms, but having descended a couple of hundred meters, it was as if I had ended up in a different season—the forest was blooming, butterflies were flying, and I even spotted a couple of animals. The air here was warmer, smelling of pine resin and damp earth. The deer didn't notice me until the very last moment, but I just watched them and walked on.
I am, of course, ferociously hungry, but it is much better to eat food prepared by a professional with various spices than roughly cut meat roasted over a fire.
Finally finding the road—or rather a path or something similar—I stepped onto it and trudged toward the village, until on the approaches to it...
"Hey, you, what are you doing here?" A jackal stepped out from behind a tree in front of me. The man indeed had the features of a jackal, held some kind of sword in his hands, and was dressed in a dirty, worn-out robe. His dull fur was covered in burrs.
"Walking," I reply calmly, not stopping.
If this is the "guard" for the village, then it would be better if there wasn't one. And if this is some robber... Although what idiot would go after a guy with the body of a god of war, wearing nothing but pants? Even if he doesn't know my face, one doesn't need to be a genius to guess that this individual, traveling with nothing, is a martial arts master.
"Hey, freak, halt!" This cretin stood in my way... Okay, now I know exactly what kind of idiot would try. "Boys, come on out!"
Three more jackals in similar clothes and with various "weapons" immediately crawled out from behind the trees. One had a rusty mace, another a bow, the third a simple cleaver. I had noticed the swordsman and his comrades in advance; I didn't even need to use Chi. These cretins were literally shouting to each other while sitting, apparently, in an ambush...
I apply my palm to my face...
"Oh, what, are you scared?" Noticing this gesture, the jackal with the sword immediately cheered up, relaxing a bit. When I started walking toward him, there was clear panic on the face of this intellect-unburdened cretin, but now there was a predatory grin... "Turn out your pockets or we'll settle you!"
"..." Hearing such a... threat? I was literally speechless.
What happened in these twenty years, I'm afraid to ask? Why the hell do some robbers not recognize an obvious master, and on top of that, demand money from him? No, one can, of course, assume that I ran into a "suicide squad"—that is, common morons—but... Even so, I'm stunned. To put it mildly.
"Are you deaf, scum?" added the jackal with the bow, aiming in my direction. "Hand over the dough, now! The passage here isn't free!"
"... Pfft... Ah-ha... Bwahahahaha!" I finally couldn't hold it back and burst out laughing, which was the last straw for these idiots. An arrow flew at my forehead, which I caught with two fingers and, with a light movement, threw away, sticking it into the ground. "Oh... You really made me laugh. So be it, I'll pay you..."
"Uhh... Umm... You'll pay?" The swordsman jackal, apparently the leader among them, was so stunned by what he saw that his mouth hung open.
"Of course I'll pay, each of you." I nod, taking out four wen coins, and with one motion, I launch the first one straight into the swordsman's forehead. The coin vanished, leaving only a neat hole from which blood spurred.
"Kha..." The falling corpse manages to utter, dropping the sword from his hands.
"And now you..." I turn toward the other robbers, then repeat the trick of piercing the skulls of these cretins. Only the last one—standing the furthest away—managed to react, but it didn't help him; he twitched, and the coin entered his eye, punching right through.
What idiots, huh? Oh well, to hell with them. I still want to eat, not look at the corpses of the mentally challenged.
I walk past the bodies, heading further toward the village. I clearly feel weakness, and have all this time; the organism is making it clear that two decades without food and water is clearly not the best idea. However, even being weaker than Tai Lung was in his youth, I can do things like this almost without using Chi! And it's not just that the training of my youth wasn't in vain, but also that my bloodline helps a lot with this matter.
It is worth explaining a bit what this "bloodline" is and what it's eaten with.
The entire population of this world, according to legends, used to consist of ordinary humans many thousands of years ago, but then "something" happened, and dormant genes related to their ancestors began to awaken in people.
In the China of my world, they also love this kind of crap for some reason; the Chinese imperial dynasty boasted that the blood of true dragons flowed in their veins, and the parents of their first emperor were considered literally deities—Fuxi and Nuwa, distinguished by having tails like Chinese dragons instead of legs.
Here, the bloodline is real and actually affects a lot. Whole "peoples" are considered born warriors, like the wolves, rhinos, or tigers.
Naturally, this doesn't actually play a key role, and even some ferret can become a strong master—Shifu and Oogway are walking confirmations of this fact. However, the bloodline often influences the style that suits a specific master and adds some other perks.
My bloodline is the snow leopard, or irbis. This explained my phenomenal strength, instincts, and, quite possibly, the contempt for such cretins who don't know their place.
Spitting, I brushed off my hands and walked on, not even glancing at the corpses.
Hunger made itself known again, and my stomach growled for the first time in many years, as if the short burst of violence had awakened my appetite.
Can I be called bloodthirsty in this case? Although, the massacre itself doesn't appeal to me at all, but a battle, and with a worthy opponent! Purrr, now that sounds interesting!
The path led me out of the forest a couple of minutes later.
The village of Han-Ya, "Cold Cliff," fully justified its name. It clung to the grey, sheer slope of the mountain like a swallow's nest. The houses were simple, wooden, with roofs of moss and slate; many looked dilapidated. I noticed cracked tiles, haphazardly patched with dirty straw, and rotting window frames. The smell of damp wood, sour goat dung, and smoke hit my nose.
Looking a little closer, something else immediately caught my eye—the atmosphere. Silence. Not the peaceful silence I remembered from the Jade Palace, but... dead silence? Like at a cemetery during a funeral. There were no children's voices heard, nor the tapping of hammers from the forge.
There was almost no one on the streets, although the sun hadn't set yet. The few I saw—residents with goat features—hurriedly scurried about their business without raising their eyes. They were all gloomy; there was neither curiosity nor life on their faces, but fatigue and fear were visible.
My gaze caught a woman with empty baskets; her shoulders were slumped, and her lips were bitten red. She pressed herself against the walls of houses, trying not to be seen, as if afraid of everything around. The only sound was the creaking of wooden signs in the wind and... quiet, nervous bleating from behind the locked gates of the pens.
Climbing into the village itself, I noticed a young guy, almost a teenager, who was trying to catch an escaped chick near the wall of a house. He had small, neat horns just starting to grow and narrow yellow pupils like a real mountain goat, and he was dressed in a simple grey tunic of similar quality to the horror the bandits wore.
Seeing me, the kid froze, the chick immediately darted into the bushes, and the guy dropped the bag of grain and recoiled in fright, pressing himself against the wall.
What is happening here? The inhabitants of China are usually quite happy; thanks to martial arts masters, there are almost no bandits, the harvest is always good, as is the standard of living, so why is everyone here so gloomy?
I raise my hands, trying to calm the guy down.
"I won't cause harm," my voice sounded lower and deeper than I expected. "I'm just looking for a place to eat. I am... very hungry."
I pointed to my stomach, which immediately growled loudly and demandingly for persuasiveness. The guy gulped, looking not at me, but at something behind my back—at the forest path I had come from.
"You... you walked... past the guard?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
"If you mean the four jackals in the forest, they won't bother anyone anymore," I replied evenly, nodding.
His eyes widened even more, but the primal fear in them was replaced by... shock? A spark of hope?
"Then... then you especially shouldn't be in the village, Master!" he grabbed my arm. His hand was bony and trembling. "There's... there's plenty of food! Over there, at the 'Mountain Goat' tavern, the only place... but..." He hesitated, looking around fearfully, as if afraid we were being overheard. "There... Sabo Metal Tooth is there right now! It's better not to go there, Master! He is also a martial arts practitioner! He will kill you!"
I frowned slightly. "Sabo Metal Tooth?" The name sounded kind of stupid, like a nickname for a circus dog, but the guy's fear was absolutely real.
"Who is that?"
"A bandit!" he hissed, pulling me into the shadow of an alley between two houses where it smelled of dampness. "He... he and his pack... they came two weeks ago! Took all the supplies. Said this is their village now. Sabo sits in the tavern, drinks our beer and... and..." the guy stumbled, looking at his feet. "His people guard below, at the main road, so no one escapes and informs the Emperor. And... and in the forest where you came from... so no one enters unnoticed. They killed those who tried to leave..."
I see. So, I killed not just robbers, but sentry-jailers... Jailers again... Is this my fate or something?
I hate bastards who think that having strength gives them the right to use it against the weak.
I looked at the guy. He was scared, but not for himself, but for me. This pitiful, trembling little goat was worried about a stranger. This... was strange. And a little... touching.
I placed my huge clawed paw on his head, causing the guy to flinch, but he didn't pull away. I awkwardly patted his head, between the twisted horns. The fur was surprisingly soft.
"Don't worry, kid. I'll handle it." I tried to calm him down, digging in my pocket.
"No! Master, there are dozens of them!" he pleaded. "And Sabo is the strongest of them... he is big and... he has a tooth made of metal!"
"Ha, then I have claws of steel," I replied, placing two small silver ingots into the guy's hand and already heading toward the tavern he had pointed out. The kid gasped, looking at the liang in his palm, but I was no longer looking at him. "And I am very, very hungry."
The "Mountain Goat" tavern was the largest building in the village. It was a two-story structure that, unlike the others, looked sturdy. Crude laughter, the clinking of mugs, and... a quiet female sob, immediately cut off, came from inside. I had seen almost no women on the streets... Now I understand why.
Rage rose from the depths of my soul, and I shoved the door with force.
It flew off its hinges and, flying across the room, crashed into a wall, burying a table with two dumbfounded jackals under it. The door didn't just fall; it literally shattered into splinters upon impact with the stonework.
Oops?
Dead silence reigned in the tavern. All this stench—the smell of spilled beer, unwashed bodies, roasted meat, and acrid fear—hit my nose. The floor was sticky with ale and strewn with gnawed bones.
There were no fewer than fifteen bandits inside. All jackals. They were dressed in a mix: dirty robes, smelly leathers, and some even had elements of stolen armor.
Young girls were frozen in the corners and by the tables. Also "goats," with small horns and frightened yellow eyes. They clutched trays in their hands, their aprons stained, eyes red from tears. One had a torn sleeve, another a noticeable bruise on her cheek.
At several tables, jackal bandits were unceremoniously groping them, and the girls endured it with terror in their eyes, afraid to make a sound. Now these hands were slowly withdrawing, moving toward scabbards with blades.
In the center of the hall, at the main table, sat that very Sabo. How did I know? He was larger than the other jackals, dressed in an expensive, though dirty, silk robe. His greasy hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and cheap rings glinted on his claws.
And he really did have a metal tooth—a fang of dull silver that flashed when he opened his mouth in surprise.
Before my arrival, he was drinking something from a mug while mocking the girls forced to be there. Two goat-girls sat on his lap; he held them in a death grip, his face buried in the hair of one of them. It was obvious how unpleasant it was for them: they were trembling and crying silently.
Sabo slowly pulled away from the girl.
"What the..." he began.
"I'm looking for a place to eat," I interrupted him, entering the hall and stepping over the groaning bandit pinned by the remains of the door. "And I think I found it."